


Music For Shy and Wistful Lovers

by HellsLittleLiar



Series: O let me, true in love, but truly write [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Modern Era, Past Abuse, Pre-Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28160403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsLittleLiar/pseuds/HellsLittleLiar
Summary: Jaskier is having a terrible day which is brightened when the most handsome man he's ever seen walks into his music shop.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: O let me, true in love, but truly write [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024696
Comments: 16
Kudos: 139





	Music For Shy and Wistful Lovers

This may have been the worst day of Jaskier’s life since breaking up with Valdo. He had woken up two hours before his already very early alarm to a phone call from his mother, who had screamed at him that he should be doing something with his life by now and how disappointed she was with him. He had been called pathetic and worthless and stupid all before half six in the morning, and it was all true but that didn’t mean Jaskier wanted to hear it repeatedly just as he woke up.

He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after that, so to cheer himself up he had gone to the cute little coffee shop a few blocks over only to run into his sister Geraldine and her new boyfriend. Her new boyfriend also happened to be Jaskier’s ex-boyfriend. Valdo had slapped and groped Jaskier’s arse as Jaskier tried to make polite conversation with his sister and then smirked as Geraldine had poured her iced coffee on Jaskier, enraged. Geraldine had screamed at him to stop trying to steal her boyfriend, called him a slut and a whore. Jaskier had turned red as everyone in the coffee shop stared at the spectacle and practically ran out the door, humiliated and upset.

He rushed back to his apartment to shower and soak his shirt in the sink before he rolled downstairs to open the music shop for the day, half an hour late. Other than playing music, the one thing that cheered him up was talking to customers. It was an excellent distraction. Unfortunately the shop was dead all morning, not a single person entering or even glancing through the window. Jaskier was left alone with his thoughts in silence. He flinched as he sat down, arse sore from Valdo’s unwanted attentions and reminding him of what his place was amongst his family.

Jaskier stared down at the book he had opened and didn’t read it. He was so distracted by his thoughts that an unexpected thump and yelp made him jump out of his skin. He looked up, startled, and discovered a Greek God. The Greek God clutched his nose and looked thoroughly embarrassed. Had he just walked into the door? More importantly, was he real or had Jaskier begun hallucinating? He hadn’t eaten anything today. Did hunger cause hallucinations?

The Greek God was perfect. His snow white hair fell about his broad, muscular shoulders, drawing Jaskier’s attention down… down… down… Jaskier forced his eyes back up to the Greek God’s face and found that he liked it even more than his body. It appeared to be sculpted from marble, with a strong jaw and a manly, furrowed brow which he could wipe sweat away from after working hard at a blacksmith’s forge or chopping wood for lumber. He couldn’t picture the Greek God in any modern setting; he could barely imagine him standing in Jaskier’s shop, despite already being there. The Greek God’s eyes were gorgeous too, a hazel-brown so light that they practically looked gold.

Jaskier heard the Greek God whimper and was suddenly reminded that he was hurt, distracted by the inhumanly handsome features. The Greek God needed assistance! Jaskier loved helping people, no matter what they looked like, but it didn’t hurt that this man was incredibly attractive. Valdo hadn’t allowed him to lend a hand to anyone when they were together; dragging him away from homeless people when he tried to give them money; forcing him to stop volunteering in a programme for domestic abuse victims; accusing him of cheating if he stopped to help a man who had tripped or a woman who was struggling with her groceries. It had turned out that Valdo was the one who was cheating in their relationship and now Jaskier was no longer limited to helplessness.

And holy shit, he was going to help this Greek God even if it killed him.

He vaulted over the counter and hurried over to cup the Greek God’s face and inspect his injuries closely. It was a relief to find that they didn’t appear serious, no abrasions were visible and there was no blood either. There was only a red mark where he had hit the door with his face, which could only be expected. He might develop some light bruising later but hopefully they could avoid that, since the Greek God was far too handsome to be walking around with his face marred. Then again, Jaskier considered, perhaps it would suit him, make him appear a little less god-like, a little more daring, roguish, even.

Jaskier brushed his thumb across the Greek God’s cheekbone, imagining it and quickly asked if he was alright, hoping he wouldn’t notice the strange action. The Greek God’s eyes widened and he nodded silently in response. Was he unable to talk? Had he been so blessed with his appearance that the gods took away his voice in exchange? Jaskier didn’t think he could blame them, if they did. The sight in front of him was far too much for one human to handle; imagine if he had to listen to a voice just as beautiful as the Greek God’s face! The face that Jaskier was still holding. He dropped his hands quickly, hoping that it looked natural although he was certain it didn’t work. The Greek God drifted forwards slightly as he removed his touch and Jaskier desperately hoped he wasn’t going to turn around and leave now that Jaskier had freaked him out.

“A-are you sure you’re alright? Only, that looked quite painful! And it was so loud as well!” Jaskier babbled on, his only true talent was talking too much after all. “I have some painkillers if you’d like- No, I suppose that would be rather silly to accept drugs from someone you don’t know, wouldn’t it? I do have an ice pack, though, in my first aid kit! Wait here, I’ll go and get it, alright? Stay here, take a seat-” He waved vaguely in the direction of the guitars where he knew he had a seat for people to sit on as they tried out the instruments. “I’ll grab it and I’ll be right back and we’ll make you feel better, alright?”

Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

To Jaskier’s relief, the Greek God followed his instructions and went to sit down next to the guitars. He watched in fascination as the Greek God’s thighs and arms flexed and rippled as he moved. As he walked towards the guitar display, he faced away from Jaskier and when Jaskier caught sight of that lovely bottom he almost fainted. If that was anything similar to what Valdo saw, Jaskier might almost forgive him for groping and slapping his arse so often even after he had dumped him. It was not entirely forgiveable, of course, but now Jaskier could understand the impulse. Embarrassed at his own thoughts, he busied his hands with unpacking the first aid kit.

“I’m Jaskier, by the way. I just thought you should know since we’re about to get more intimately acquainted.” He didn’t look at the Greek God as he spoke, keeping his eyes on the ice pack he held until the man replied.

“Geralt.” His voice was deep and raspy but his tone was shy and quiet.

“That’s your name?” Jaskier confirmed, feeling stupid as he uttered the question without thinking.

“Y-yes.”

“That’s a pretty name, Geralt.” Jaskier smiled.

“You’re prettier.” Geralt replied smoothly and Jaskier felt himself blushing what he had been assured was an unattractive colour as he squeaked in surprise. He wished he could stop the rising heat to his face, and hoping that Geralt didn’t find the shade of what his mother described as “puce” _too_ terribly off-putting.

He should have known a man as handsome as Geralt would be perfectly smooth too, probably having people throw themselves at him everywhere he went. It had been a long time since anyone had flirted with Jaskier. He hadn’t been allowed to go many places where it would happen while he was with Valdo, his ex-boyfriend only finally agreeing to allow Jaskier to attend open mic nights at Valerie’s Place if he accompanied him. Then slowly, even open mic nights had trickled to a stop.

“Th-thank you.” He stuttered out, wishing he could remember how to flirt properly.

Jaskier pressed the ice pack to Geralt’s face but froze as he heard the man hiss. Shit. He was so stupid. He couldn’t even tend to a bruise properly.

“S-sorry! Shit, I’m sorry. I should have warned you before I just went and shoved ice on your face.”

Geralt shrugged but didn’t bother answering properly. Jaskier must have really fucked it up, just like he fucked up everything else in his life. The first man to show even a sliver of interest in someone as stupid and pathetic as Jaskier since Valdo and he hadn’t even been able to respond properly. Then he went and hurt the man! Perhaps, although Jaskier had ruined his chances of anything more, perhaps Geralt wouldn’t mind if he talked to him for a while? Jaskier truly did miss talking to people, especially people who weren’t customers- oh, right. Geralt had walked into his shop. He was a customer, just like anybody else. He wasn’t there to flirt or make friends with Jaskier, obviously. He was there to buy something. There Jaskier had gone again, being idiotic and making assumptions that were blatantly false. This was why Valdo, and before that his parents, had done all the thinking for him.

“So, Geralt, what brings you to my humble shop?” He asked.

“Need an instrument.” Geralt mumbled and Jaskier frowned. He had truly ruined Geralt’s first impression of him. The man had already realised how stupid Jaskier was, how much he needed explaining to him. He hadn’t realised how obvious his idiocy was to others. It was shocking he even still had customers who came to his shop. He hoped he could at least be helpful and nice enough to find Geralt whatever he wanted, because he was pretty sure he would give Geralt literally anything. If he was being hopeful he might even hope that Geralt would talk positively of his shop to other people and then more customers would come to visit him- his shop. Jaskier was so lonely.

“O-oh… right. Of course. Silly me, of course I should have known that, seeing as this is a music shop, after all. May I ask what kind of instrument you’re looking for? Or, oh! I could guess what instrument you play! That might be a fun game. What do you say? Guitar? Ukulele? Flute? Saxophone? Tambourine- no, of course it’s not a tambourine, what am I saying? Banjo? Trumpet? Triangle?”

He pouted as Geralt shook his head at each of his guesses. He didn’t ignore him or tell him off for trying to play a game instead of acting more professionally, which was better than Jaskier expected. What had he not guessed? He tried to remember what he had already said but he had rattled them off so quickly he had already forgotten.

“Okay, okay, I give up. What instrument do you play?”

“None.”

There was the reason he hadn’t been able to guess, then.

“O-oh. Are you shopping for a gift then? Maybe for a lady friend?” Jaskier wiggled his eyebrows jokingly and hoped for a vehement denial and maybe, if he was lucky, some more flirtations.

“Not, not really.” Geralt looked down at the floor. It wasn’t quite the reaction Jaskier had been hoping for but it was still a denial. “I-I want… to learn.”

“I can teach you!” Jaskier offered. He hoped that it wasn’t too forward, suggesting that Geralt spend any amount of time with him in the future. Teaching him to play an instrument wasn’t exactly the romantic overture Jaskier wanted to offer, but his brain didn’t seem to be working right as he stood this close to Geralt, not that he was very smart usually. His fingertips were a mere breath away from Geralt’s cheek and he was well aware that he was standing close enough to him that Geralt’s legs were spread a little wider than what must have been comfortable to accommodate him. He thought about stepping back to give Geralt some personal space, but that would only draw attention to how close they were in the first place. He didn’t think Geralt noticed how close they were, thank the gods.

“That’s not necessary.” Geralt informed him and Jaskier attempted to push down his disappointment. “I-I don’t even know which instrument I’m to be learning just yet.”

He didn’t know? “You don’t know which one you want to learn? Most people decide before they even start shopping. Don’t you worry, if it’s in here, I know how to play it and I can teach you.”

Was he pushing too hard? Did Geralt not appreciate Jaskier offering to teach him? Was he going to leave and never let Jaskier see or speak to him again?

“Yes, I was going to ask what the best instrument is for begin- wait, you know how to play all of these instruments? Geralt broke off in the middle of his sentence and looked around the shop incredulously.

Jaskier felt him flush once more, this time with shame. How dreadfully humiliating to have accidentally admitted one of his worst childhood secrets to a handsome stranger. Every time his siblings were bored of tormenting him, they locked him in the family music room and left him there for however long it took for someone to remember he existed. On a few, memorable occasions, it had been days. He had developed a habit of keeping bottled water and food inside the old, grand piano that nobody except himself ever learnt how to play.

His parents had berated him for learning so many instruments, insisting that he should be pursuing more worthwhile pursuits and that music was a waste of time. He had attempted to explain that his siblings were locking him inside the music room but they hadn’t believed him and he was belted for lying. Then he had to memorise a terribly dry physics book word for word and recite it during fencing lessons, both subjects which his parents insisted on. He hated fencing on normal days but he hated it even more during his punishment, where they revolved out different tutors and didn’t allow him to rest until he could recite the physics textbook without mistakes. He spent roughly two weeks fencing and collapsing from exhaustion and being set upon immediately by fencing masters as soon as he woke, until he finally managed to get it right the whole way through. At the end, he had collapsed for the final time and was unable to move his limbs for a week.

His family had left him on the floor where he collapsed and mostly ignored him except for when they shouted at him for being lazy and ill-mannered. One evening, his father had dragged him over his knee and belted him for it, but quickly grew bored as Jaskier hadn’t even had the energy to cry out in pain, tears streaming silently down his face instead. He was certain he was only alive because Geraldine and Harold had taken pity on him and dropped dry bread rolls on the floor next to him and poured water down his throat, although to this day he still wasn’t sure whether they were trying to help him or drown him. These days, he leaned more towards the second option.

“I-I know it must seem like a-a waste of time and effort-” Those were the words his mother had used for it. “-but it-it makes me happy.”

“Then it is not a waste.”

Jaskier looked shyly at Geralt’s face, searching it for any sign of annoyance or mockery and, to his surprise, found none.

“You think so?”

“Anything that makes you happy is not wasted.”

Jaskier hadn’t thought of it like that before. “Y-yes! I suppose you’re right! Everyone should do what makes them happy.”

What a sweet, lovely man Geralt was. He must brighten the day of everyone he interacted with, just like he was brightening Jaskier’s right now. He lifted the ice pack away from Geralt’s face. “There. Do you feel better now, Geralt?”

“Hm.” _Yes._

“Good. I’m glad. Are you still feeling up to shopping now you’ve been grievously wounded?”

“I am sure I will manage, somehow.”

He giggled as Geralt played along with his joke, the kind, playful man. Handsome, kind and funny. He was the perfect package. Jaskier sighed internally. Oh, if only he was worthy of the attentions of such a god-like figure with such a lovely personality. He envied whoever Geralt would cast his attentions towards next.

Jaskier walked back over to the counter to pack away the ice pack and found, to his delight, that Geralt followed close behind him. Geralt stood in front of the counter, waiting for him and when Jaskier vaulted back over and landed in front of him, he realised how close they were once again. He looked up at Geralt’s face, trying to determine whether he was upset with this situation. Geralt did not seem to care much either way, so Jaskier didn’t move away, just to make sure he didn’t notice how close they stood. Jaskier could almost feel Geralt’s body heat through his clothes.

“You said you wanted a beginner’s instrument?”

Geralt nodded.

“Great! Well, the good news is that they’re all beginner’s instruments! Anyone can pick up an instrument and learn the basics – you only need to know a couple of chords to be able to play a song! You pretty much have your pick of anything here and I can show you the basics before you go-” Jaskier caught sight of the wide-eyed, terrified expression on Geralt’s face and cut himself off. “Aaaand from the expression on your face I can tell that you actually hate the idea of having to pick from all of these instruments so you just sit tight and I will narrow down your options for you! How does that sound?”

Geralt looked relieved and nodded in agreement.

“Most people start off learning piano or keyboard.” Jaskier suggested.

Geralt shook his head silently and Jaskier began to wonder whether he would ever be blessed with hearing the man’s deep, raspy voice ever again when he spoke. “Needs to be, hm, portable.”

“Ooh, intriguing!” Jaskier gasped. “What a mystery! Where are you going to be playing your portable instrument, Geralt? Busking, perhaps?”

He regretted that particular guess almost as soon as it left his mouth. Geralt obviously didn’t enjoy attention, like Jaskier did. He wasn’t needy and whiny enough to need constant praise to convince himself he was worth anything. Because Geralt really was worth something, unlike Jaskier.

“No, not busking.” He corrected himself. “Maybe I was right earlier when I mentioned a lady friend? Are you, perhaps, planning on serenading her? Oh, darling, I bet you have a beautiful singing voice. I can just tell these things.”

“I do not sing.” Geralt told him and Jaskier smiled fondly at the familiar phrase, echoed often throughout his shop.

“Just because you don’t, doesn’t mean you can’t! Now, tell me, was I right?” Please don’t let Jaskier be right. He hoped there wasn’t anyone in Geralt’s life for him to serenade. Except Jaskier. Jaskier certainly wouldn’t mind getting serenaded.

Geralt graced him with the sweetest, smallest smile he had ever seen. He pushed down a squeal which raised up in his throat at the sight and fought down the inexplicable urge to pinch the other man’s cheek.

“Depends. Do you count horses as lady friends?”

Horses? “You own horses?”

“I own one horse. The others are residents at the horse sanctuary I run.”

“You own a horse sanctuary?”

“Hm.” _Yes._

“That’s so sweet!” He cooed, unable to stop himself. At least he hadn’t pinched his cheeks. “I bet those horses are so grateful to you for helping them.”

“Horses do not feel gratitude.”

It was only the smallest twitch of Geralt’s lips which hinted at the sentence being a joke.

“Because they’re animals or just because horses are particularly rude?” Jaskier played along and received an amused snort in return. Geralt said nothing more and so he turned back to his quest to find the perfect portable instrument.

“Okay, something portable, something portable.” He muttered to himself. “How about a guitar? No, probably not, unless you want to ride around on your horse looking like a country singer.” He looked Geralt up and down. He didn’t seem like the kind of person to enjoy country music, but appearances could be deceiving about these sorts of things. “Although you could pull off the country singer look, I think. Actually you can probably pull off any look you want.” He added honestly, although Geralt was likely already aware of this.

Geralt didn’t answer this time and Jaskier hoped he hadn’t offended or upset him somehow. He would have to divert the conversation back to music quickly.

“You know what would be a good instrument for your horses?” He said, louder than he meant to. “A harmonica! It’s super easy to learn a few notes and make it into a tune and once you’ve got the hang of it, the sound can be so relaxing! That’s why you want to play for the horses, right? To relax them? I can’t imagine it’s to get them riled up.”

“Hm. A couple of them- they’re not sleeping- I read music could help so- hm.”

That was the cutest thing Jaskier had ever heard! Geralt wanted to help his horses sleep, to take good care of them. What a sweet man. Did Geralt take care of everyone in his life like that? Would he help his lover sleep? Would he have taken care of Jaskier, if Geralt had been interested past a brief, fun flirtation. He could lay his head down in Geralt’s soft lap and play with the silver hair as it hung down above him, while Geralt serenaded him with dulcet tunes from the harmonica. Perhaps that fantasy was far, far out of reach, but Jaskier could still make sure Geralt owned a harmonica. Just to make his fantasy world seem a little more realistic. In his enthusiasm, he grabbed Geralt’s hand and pulled him over to the harmonica display as he blathered on about the pros and cons of different types of harmonica.

He had been chattering on for a good, long while before he felt something brush against the back of his knuckles. When he looked down, he realised he was still grasping onto Geralt’s hand like a complete idiot. He let go quickly and stuttered out what he hoped was an apology, his face burning. Once again, he had inserted himself into a space he wasn’t wanted. Why did he keep doing this? Why did he keep forcing himself onto other people who didn’t want him? He fought back tears as Geralt flexed his hand discretely, too polite to wipe it on his jeans in disgust.

“I don’t mind.” Geralt whispered and Jaskier’s world flipped on it’s head.

Geralt didn’t mind? Didn’t mind what, specifically? Jaskier invading his personal space? Being forced into holding hands with a complete stranger? Didn’t mind the flirting? No, no, he must have misunderstood. He shouldn’t think things like that; he might start getting dangerous ideas, maybe even convincing himself he was lovable or wanted. It would hurt too much when he remembered that nobody would ever care for him as much as he cared for them.

He held up the harmonica he usually recommended. “This one would be good for a beginner.”

As he passed the harmonica over, their hands brushed against each other and Jaskier retreated quickly, clutching his hand to his chest. He could feel it burning where Geralt had touched him. Nobody else had touched him for such a long time. Geralt didn’t even look at the instrument before he agreed to buy it. Jaskier was startled.

“Really? Just like that? Don’t you want to ask any questions about it first?”

”I trust that you know what you’re talking about.”

It had been a long time since anyone had said anything of the sort to Jaskier, having spent the last couple of years slowly talking to less and less people until he only interacted with Valdo, outside of his family. Whenever Jaskier played an instrument, Valdo pulled a face and plugged his ears like a child until he stopped. He mocked Jaskier for not being good enough at music to study it at university, then sold all his instruments and prevented him from performing at Valerie’s for open mic nights. Every song Jaskier had written himself mysteriously showed up later on Valdo’s YouTube page with thousands of viewers. Jaskier’s own YouTube page only had locked videos, so nobody except himself could see them. It would be terribly embarrassing if anyone saw those videos – they would probably think he stole his own songs from Valdo! He preferred not to think about it.

But here was Geralt, suggesting that he thought Jaskier knew about music. Well, Jaskier did know a lot about music. He was a terrific musician and Geralt was absolutely correct to trust him. It was just strange. It didn’t usually happen. It never happened. Even other customers tended to think he looked far too young to actually know what he was talking about. Most of them assumed he was working there part time while attending university, rather than actually owning the business. Personally, Jaskier thought nineteen was quite old enough to be a fully trained musician, although perhaps he was a little young to be running a shop by himself.

“I-I can show you how to use it, if you’d like?” Jaskier offered, hesitantly. Stupid idiot. Ridiculous. Just because Geralt thought a man who worked in a music shop would be able to play music, that didn’t mean he would want to spend any more time with Jaskier than he had to. People always take what they needed from him and left him behind and there was no reason for Geralt to be any different.

“Hm.” _Yes._

Jaskier lit up and pulled his own harmonica out of his pocket. He always kept it in his pocket and so it was the only instrument Valdo had missed during his Purge, since Jaskier was the only one in their relationship to ever do the laundry. Geralt didn’t seem to mind pretending to listen as Jaskier rambled on about how to play the harmonica.

Eventually he managed to shut himself up and as Geralt thanked him politely, Jaskier decided to take a risk. He scribbled his number down on the receipt and hid it quickly in the paper bag. Geralt likely wouldn’t call him, since he was so obviously far, far out of Jaskier’s league, but a little bit of hope got Jaskier through the day. He hoped Geralt wouldn’t be the kind of man to take offence to another man showing overt interest. Flirting a little bit was one thing but handing out his phone number was another.

Geralt frowned at the receipt as he slid it into the bag and for a brief, spine-chilling moment Jaskier thought he had caught sight of the phone number and wasn’t happy about it. His fear was washed away almost immediately as he realised Geralt was simply confused about why he was handwriting the receipt. Jaskier blushed. Did it make him look dreadfully unprofessional? If it did, the phone number certainly wouldn’t help. It was too late to take it back now, though, without raising suspicion.

“Sorry. I-I only opened the shop a couple of weeks ago and I don’t have a proper cash register yet, so I have to write out all the receipts.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows at the empty cash register with a glued-shut drawer which Jaskier had put out to make his shop seem more… shop-like. He had found it at the junk yard so he hadn’t had to pay for it and was incredibly pleased with himself. He used the lockable drawer in his counter as a cash register, which Jaskier wasn’t about to go around advertising to people.

“That’s just for display. It doesn’t work – it doesn’t even open, to be honest with you. But let’s keep that our little secret, alright?” Jaskier winked automatically. He was delighted to see a sweet, light pink blush spread across Geralt’s cheeks. Geralt’s lips twitched up in a soft, hesitant smile.

“Hm.” _I promise._

“Remember to come back and let me know if your horses enjoy their new music!” _Please come back._

“I will.”

They waved goodbye and as Geralt turned around, he slammed straight into the door frame for the second time that day. Jaskier gasped and vaulted over the counter, fully prepared to fuss over him and insist that he stay a while longer. It was only bad timing that stopped him from reaching Geralt before the other man had recovered. He didn’t even turn around to address Jaskier before he rushed out of the door and down the street, shoulders hunched and head down. Jaskier sighed wistfully and leaned against the door frame Geralt had walked into as he watched him leave.

The poor darling must have hurt himself. He hoped Geralt would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> I have several ideas for Witcher fanfic but all I want to write is this 'verse haha
> 
> Please leave a comment to let me know if you enjoyed! I am open to prompts for this au if you want to leave them (politely!) but no guarantees they'll manage to get written :D
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! <3


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